


Craving

by Never_Out_Of_Style



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: EFA Fic Challenge 2019, F/F, Gen, Jeremy is the number one WayHaught shipper, Love, Peace, Unicorn Donuts, toothpaste
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 05:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17892185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Never_Out_Of_Style/pseuds/Never_Out_Of_Style
Summary: When you think you're jonesing for vanilla-dipped donuts, but you've really got the haughts for a certain red-headed officer of the law. And you definitely, DEFINITELY owe Wynonna a lifetime supply of donuts forever and ever amen.Or,CliCk 4 WAyHaUghT tR@$h





	Craving

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Poetoaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetoaster/gifts).



> Dedicated to my endlessly patient beta reader, Poetoaster, who shoves both her hands in one pocket and screams, "You thought wrong!" on the regular.
> 
> Dedicated to DW, with my condolences. Thank you for teaching us about your Dad, for choosing happiness, for giving a meaningful voice and platform to fic writers. 
> 
> and:
> 
> Dedicated to all Wynonna Earp fans everywhere, who deserve better than to have their fandom threatened at every turn but still fight tirelessly for what they love. I almost did not publish this particular fanfic because I felt like what I had to offer was subpar. However, in light of recent news, I feel like it's important to flood the world with Wynonna Earp stories, regardless of their perceived quality.
> 
> All my love,  
> xoxoxo

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

“Wynonna!” Waverly called down the stairs, talking around the toothbrush shoved to the side of her mouth. “I’m going out on a walk!”

She spat into the sink and washed off the bristles.

She didn’t wait for answer, not noticing in her haste that as she went to slip out the door before her older sister woke up enough from her early evening doze to ask more questions, she had pocketed the toothbrush in the confines of her coat. 

The cool air greeted her like an old friend, familiar and unobtrusive. She shivered more out of habit than actual cold as she pulled her jacket more tightly around herself. Walking outside felt like a balm to the uncomfortable burning energy buzzing internally, threatening to consume her from the inside out.

She saw a cop standing on the street, bathed in the light from the lamp post, but she kept to herself, walking in the other direction.

“Excuse me, Miss, but you shouldn’t be walking alone by yourself out here at this time of night!”

Waverly turned, about to give whoever this flat-footed rookie cop was a piece of her mind, when she stopped at the sight of the officer.

She was tall, like woah maybe you should be a runway model or at least captain of the basketball team tall, with a shock of fire-hydrant red hair pulled back, and a stetson atop her head that was the epitome of country.

 

 

And Waverly be damned, _she was pretty_.

 

 

“Begging your pardon, Miss, I have no doubt you can handle your affairs on your own,” the cop said, tipping her hat in what was an adorable show of chivalry in Waverly’s direction. “But I’ve answered several calls from this location at this time of night, and I’d hate for something bad to happen to a woman as lovely as yourself.”

“You think I’m lovely?” Waverly blurted out, cursing herself and everyone that had ever known her because how was _that_ the first thing she said to this stranger?

The cop smiled, and Waverly knew she was in _trouble_.

She moved a hand to the back of her head, the lightest of pinks brushing her cheeks. “Forgive me for being so forward. I’m Nicole, Nicole Haught.”

“ _Haught_?” Of course. What else would her last name be?

“I know, I know,” Nicole muttered, her blush now full blown. “It’s H-A-U-G-H-T, but yeah, it’s pronounced ‘hot’”.

“Junior high must have been _murder_ ,” Waverly said, her eyes wide. She felt an instant flush of compassion for this stranger-become-acquaintance.

Nicole shrugged, shoving her hands into her pockets in a would-be-casual way. “That was a really long time ago. Anyways. May I ask why you’re out here, walking alone?”

“If I’m being honest, this is all part of a psychology project I’m conducting myself,” Waverly answered.

Nicole looked genuinely intrigued. “Are you allowed to expand on that? Or is it a classified secret, above my pay grade?”

“I read this book recently about the psychology behind how we make and keep habits. Okay, so you know, toothpaste, right? Doesn’t seem like it would have much of a connection to human psychology. I mean, dental health, _sure_. But psychology? Unlikely.”

Nicole frowned, her nose scrunching up as she pondered Waverly’s words. It was adorable, which seemed to be about the only word Waverly could think of to describe anything in this cop’s presence.

“So this guy, his name is Claude Hopkins. He is world renowned for his advertising smarts. I mean, this man is a _genius_. So an old friend of his approaches him, asks him if he’ll make an advertising pitch for his brand of toothpaste called pepsodent. Hopkins knew that everyone selling toothpaste was going out of business, so to say this was a risky undertaking was really an understatement. But his friend convinced him, so he takes it on. Turns out it was the most money he ever made from a single advertising campaign, and ten years after the campaign, more than half of all Americans were brushing their teeth daily.”

“Ok, so I’m confused,” Nicole admitted, cocking her head to the side. “Maybe a brilliant scientist such as yourself can explain to a lowly cop what the connection is between psychology and toothpaste.”

“Well,” Waverly responded, wondering why such blatant flattery had her all kinds of flustered. “The reason he claims he was successful was because he discovered the science behind creating cravings in people. Cue, routine, reward, craving. Just simple, behavioral science for you.”

Nicole’s eyes sparkled. “Someone could wreak a lot of havoc with that kind of power.”

“I’m currently using that power for _good_ , thank you very much,” Waverly countered. “That’s what I’m doing right now, trying to create a new habit.”

 

“Would it work on anything, or only toothpaste?”

“Anything,” Waverly answered.

 

“Ok so I know that you are 100% capable of walking on your own, but your neighborhood is where I make my rounds anyway, so would you mind terribly if I made a habit of my own and accompanied you occasionally? Maybe you could tell me about the progress of your experiment?”

 

Waverly found herself agreeing without so much as a second thought.

 

It turned out that “occasionally” actually meant _all the time_ , and before she knew it, Waverly’s walks had become Waverly’s walks with Nicole.

She didn’t know why it was so easy to talk with this person whom she still considered little more than a stranger, but Waverly didn’t feel the need to question. Instead, she talked, listened as Nicole talked to her, and one day, their comfortable small talk had evolved into something else entirely.

 

Waverly talked about her childhood, about losing Willa when she was only six, how she’d always felt conflicted about that loss on account of their _challenging_ sibling dynamic;

Nicole talked about growing up with self-described hippie parents, who had once grounded her after they found an empty bag of cheetos under her bed (consumption of synthetic food dyes was the equivalent of teen pregnancy in her household, and while yellow food dye was not nearly so offensive as Red Lake 1, she knew better);

Waverly talked about losing Wynonna, first to a lifetime of petty crime and court-mandated therapy, and then to the much more glamorous allure of unrestricted travel all across Europe, but how she was the first of their family who had managed to find her way back (and how Waverly secretly hoped this time it was for good);

Nicole talked about rock climbing in Vegas during the summers, how she’d been training for a championship that year but a nasty fall put her in the hospital the day of the competition;

Waverly talked about her most recent heartbreak, a boy incapable of independent thought with a misleading pretty face, who’d made her feel like she was special for a period of time but eventually took too much and gave too little.

 

First it happened little by little, then it came all at once.

 

Waverly found that was no longer talking _about_ anything specific; rather, she was just talking for the sake of talking, talking to _Nicole_.

 

The first time their hands touched, Waverly thought nothing of it. It was far too quick to be anything but accidental, and walking next to someone all but guaranteed the occasional, non-intentional hand brush.

The second time their hands touched, Waverly knew that it was most certainly anything but an accident, but whether it was her own or Nicole’s initiative, she wasn’t sure, so she hid her hands in her pockets until her breathing normalized.

The third time their hands touched, it wasn’t an accident, Waverly didn’t mind so much, and she knocked back against Nicole’s knuckles a half-second too long just to watch her reaction.

 

Waverly looked up, feeling her heart race when she saw from the corner of her eye that Nicole was openly gazing at her. This was not the street she remembered.

“Nicole, where are we going?”

“Well, with all of this walking we’ve been doing, I feel like we deserve a reward. I know this place that makes vegan donuts.”

She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Vegan donuts?” Waverly repeated, wondering how such a thing could be possible in a town like this.

“Yeah!” Nicole beamed, steering them in the direction of the shop before Waverly could think better of it. “I know for sure they have vegan vanilla-dipped donuts, your favorite!”

Nicole didn’t ask for confirmation that vanilla-dipped donuts, were, in fact, Waverly’s favorite of all the donuts. She didn’t ask because she didn’t need to—Waverly must have told her at some point, and Nicole, Waverly’s walking partner, Nicole, she heard, she _listened_ , and she remembered.

It was such a small thing, but it was also a very thoughtful gesture that she didn’t want to ignore.

The donut shop was a sight that almost made Waverly laugh.

 

With a sign that read, “Peace, Love, & Unicorn Donuts” in loopy font and employees easily spotted through the windows wearing obnoxious tye dye garb, it was in immediate danger of being swallowed up by the oppressive, small-town drab that surrounded it. The storefront itself was an advertisement for veganism, making the handmade sign on the door reading “buy vegan here!” largely unnecessary.

She wondered how she had never seen it before now.

“They just opened up shop a couple months ago,” Nicole explained, as if she could read Waverly’s mind. “It was the kind of thing I thought you might be into.”

It _was_ the kind of thing Waverly was into.

“Yeah,” she agreed, the words tangling in her throat. “I like sweet things. S-sweet things like donuts.”

The inside was just as charming as the exterior, featuring a pool table, a working but clearly old N64 system, and several worn but hospitable looking couches. It had a welcoming air of _stay_ , rather than, _please vacate the premises as soon as possible_.

“You must be Waverly,” greeted an employee as they walked through the door.

Waverly read his name tag, _Robin_ , before offering back a frown.

“I’m sorry, have we met before? If so, I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember you.”

“Uh, no,” Robin said, clearing his throat awkwardly before providing an explanation. “Sorry, it’s just, I’m so happy you’re finally here! Nicole has told us so much about you!”

She turned to Nicole, curious, seeing that the redhead’s face was rapidly becoming the color of her hair.

She shot Robin a _look_ before smiling back at Waverly. “Robin’s a friend of mine. I told him that you’re vegan—his boyfriend, Jeremy, is a vegetarian, by the way—and we might come by some day to show you around.”

Jeremy the vegetarian chose at that precise moment to walk in through the doors behind the counter. “Don’t tell me I missed WayHaught!”

Nicole cleared her throat. “This is Waverly, Jeremy.”

Waverly offered Jeremy her best, Purgatory’s-award-winning-nicest-person smile before asking, “What’s a WayHaught?”

No one seemed to be able or willing to answer her question.

Jeremy was smiling so widely that he looked like he might explode. His voice squeaked as he asked, “So what’ll it be, vanilla dipped donuts for the lady?”

“How did you know?” Waverly asked, unable to contain her own smile in response to Jeremy’s infectious enthusiasm. She watched Nicole out of the corner of her eye, noticing that, if it were possible, her face was turning even redder.

“I called beforehand to make sure they were in stock, uh, just in case,” Nicole muttered with a shrug.

But Waverly didn’t miss the glare directed in Jeremy’s direction that required no words to say, shut up now.

You would think Jeremy had won the lottery for the megawatt smile he gave Waverly as he handed her the paper bag (Printed on 100% recycled paper. Please recycle!, it read).

“I make these donuts by hand every morning,” he informed her, looking down at his donuts with a parental-like fondness. “I hand paint them to look like unicorns, too. I picked out the prettiest one for you. It’s extra special.”

“He did,” Robin laughed. “He spent a lot of extra time on it this morning. We almost didn’t open on time!”

“You’ll come back again, won’t you?” Jeremy pleaded as handed Nicole the receipt, ignoring the daggers she sent his way.

“Of course,” Waverly agreed.

Jeremy needn’t have worried.

Their first donut run became one, then two, then three times a week, then four times a week, until it was as customary as going on walks with Nicole in the first place.

Waverly’s walks had become walks with Nicole had become walks with Nicole and donut run.  
It was a routine as good as any.

One night as they walked, donut bags swinging in their hands in tandem with the rhythm of their steps, Waverly noticed that Nicole was acting different. She was stiffer than normal, lacking her usual confidence, and seemed to be fighting with herself about something.

It put Waverly’s teeth on edge.

“Nicole,” she finally asked, causing the two of them to stop. “What’s wrong?”

Nicole looked at Waverly, her forehead screwed up in pain. “I—it’s nothing.”

“I know you’re lying. It’s ok if you don’t want to talk about it right now, but tell me that, then.”

“Waverly, I—” she twisted her hands together, unsure. “I’m sorry. There’s no right way to preface this, and I should have told you sooner.”

Waverly felt her breath _catch_ and her heart _pound_ because surely, this moment had all the makings of a romantic confession, and damn if she wasn’t ready. She almost smiled as she thought about it, how she’d tell Nicole the feelings were mutual, and how the next time they went out for donuts, they could so _holding hands_.

“I’m going through a divorce. It was supposed to be finalized months ago, but . . . ”

“Oh,” was all Waverly could say, feeling like she’d been sucker punched. “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah,” Nicole nodded, visibly chewing on the inside of her mouth. “You don’t owe me anything, it’s just, you know, after all these walks and stuff, I wanted to be honest with you.”

“Oh, you mean, like how I was honest with you from the beginning?”

“Waverly, come on, you know that’s not fair—”

Waverly didn’t know if it was jealousy or betrayal twisting in her gut, but either way, she turned around, not trusting herself now to face Nicole. “We’re not dating. You can keep your secrets to yourself for all I care.”

There was a long, pregnant pause in which Nicole said nothing, and then—

 

 

 

“If that’s what you want.”

 

 

Waverly didn’t want for any of this to be happening, but when she turned around in an attempt to fix it, Nicole was already gone.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Days bled into weeks, weeks bled into months, and soon, three months had passed since Waverly and Nicole had gone on a walk.

 

But Waverly had bigger problems than her _not_ relationship with Nicole Haught.

She had not so much as _smelled_ a vanilla-dipped donut in three months, and the situation was beginning to look _desperate_.

 

She’d been avoiding Peace, Love, & Unicorn Donuts like you would an old classmate in a grocery store, finding exorbitantly difficult ways of getting places she needed lest her errands brought her anywhere close. But though she refused to set foot inside, her mind had other ideas entirely, taking her there regularly to feast on imaginary donuts that would never satisfy.

Finally, cursing Nicole Haught for having brought there in the first place, Waverly picked up the phone.

“Peace, Love, & Unicorn donuts, this is Jeremy. How many I help you?”

She hesitated at first, before her stomach offered a firm growl of encouragement. “Hi, Jeremy, I’d like to order a dozen donuts, but I’m unable to leave my home at the moment, and I am wondering if you offer any delivery options?”

“Of course!” came the enthusiastic response. “Would you give me your address so I can make sure it’s within our delivery range? Don’t worry, by the way, we have, like, a fifteen mile radius, so pretty much as long as you’re in Purgatory, we’ll bring you some donuts.”

Waverly let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding and basked in the relief. “My address is 319 Homestead Avenue—”

“Nice, that’s right around the corner, not far at all. Wait. Is this Waverly? Waverly Earp?”

She choked. “Yeah, hi, Jeremy, it’s me.”

“We don’t do delivery in your area.”

“Wait, what? Jeremy, come on, you _just_ said—”

“We don’t do delivery in your area. Also I miss you and love you. Bye.”

 

The click of the phone in her ear signaled her untimely defeat, and Waverly hung her head.

 

Another week passed, and she was spending a small fortune of mental energy not to think about how badly she wanted donuts.

It was when she was awoken by a dream—the aroma of fresh, vanilla-dipped donuts teasing her into wakefulness—that she knew she could no longer afford not to act and left her bed in a brazen act of defiance.

The floor was too cold as her feet made contact, but she didn’t allow time for her body to process the shock before she had already begun making her descent down the stairs.

“Wynonna?” she called out, pulling out her best little sister voice.

She found her older sister sitting down to a hearty breakfast of Lucky Charms and whiskey. “Stop judging me. It’s Saturday.”

“Um, right, okay,” Waverly said, shaking her head and trying unsuccessfully to ignore the image of literal nutritional catastrophe before her. “I need a favor. Will you go to Peace, Love, & Unicorn donuts and pick up a dozen donuts for me? I’ll pay you. My craving for donuts is out of control.”

She reached into her purse and pulled out the money for extra emphasis.

Wynonna looked up with deliberate slowness from where she had sorted the breakfast marshmallows according to shape. Her eyes, sharp with shrewdness, narrowed.

“Baby girl, never in your young, angelic life have you ever asked me to go pick up food using a _car_ that is _bad_ for the environment when something is in walking distance. Your Portlandia donuts place is maybe 10 minutes on foot from here. Want to tell me what’s going on? Or do I need to guess?”

Waverly flushed, knowing full well that the action did little to plead her case. “I called to see if they do delivery, but they don’t.”

“Not what I asked, Waves.”

“I know, but,” Waverly tried, feeling like a deer pinned by headlights, facing an inevitable death but still unable to flee.

She didn’t know why now of all times she felt like crying, but the illogicality of emotion did nothing to stem the flow of tears from her eyes.

Wynonna rose from her chair and offered her arms as a safe haven.

“Shhh, Waves, it’s gonna be ok,” she soothed, running a hand through Waverly’s hair. “Let it out. Look, I know I’m not really the advice-giving type, but from this Bacon Donut to her Angel Pants, are you sure this is about donuts? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I get that donuts are really, _really_ important, but a girl does wonder . . . ”

Waverly sniffed, shaking her head against the safety of where she had tucked herself under Wynonna’s neck. “I don’t think this is about donuts.”

“Does this have anything to do with your routine of going out for walks with a certain officer of the law?”

Waverly didn’t respond, but her silence was as good as confirmation.

“So you and Gingerspice are best friends now, huh?”

Waverly laughed in spite of herself. “Yeah, we’re real gal pals.”

Waverly wasn’t sure if anything short of walking out to Diana Ross’s “I’m Coming Out!” blasting in the background while wearing a unicorn onesie and waving rainbow flags would help Wynonna see what was clearly in front of her, so she threw her a bone.

“I like her, Wynonna. Really, _really_ , like her.”

Wynonna pulled back from their hug to wipe away Waverly’s tears with the pad of her thumb. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, the enormity of the situation settling upon her like a dead weight. “We haven’t talked in _months_ , Wynonna. Months. And it’s all my fault. She told me something, and I kinda freaked out, and now I don’t know where she is, or how I can talk to her, or if she even wants to talk to me at all now.”

“Ok, number one, of course she wants to talk to you. And number two, she’s at the freaking donut shop, Waverly, duh,” Wynonna said, rolling her eyes. “Have you never seen a romcom before? Or have I failed you as a sister completely?”

“This isn’t a romcom, Wynonna, this is _real life_. People don’t just hang out in donut shops all day, waiting for their estranged crushes to show up after months of not talking.”

“So prove me wrong, then. But if I’m right, you better not come back here unless you’ve got a dozen of them donuts in hand.”

Waverly grumbled but didn’t argue as she bustled around the house, grabbing her keys and a jacket.

 

“Oh, and Waverly?”

“Yeah?”

 

“You should bring that Nicole chick over sometime and introduce me, I’d like to talk to her,” Wynonna said, nodding pointedly in the direction of the shotgun on the kitchen counter.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

As Waverly made her way to Peace, Love, & Unicorn Donuts, the dots started to connect like the interlocking pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

 

Cue? Nighttime  
Routine? Walk  
Reward? Donuts  
Craving? _A certain Haught redhead with dimples_

 

Speak of the devil, here she was, playing pool in the donut shop like she had just been waiting around every weekend for this exact scene to unfold—

 

Their eyes met.

“Hi, Waverly,” Nicole greeted with a small but warm smile. She leaned against the pool table, her body posture so perfectly arranged in an air of casual that it all but screamed _intentional_.

“You,” Waverly began, stopped, pointing an accusing finger in her direction. “Think you can play me at my own game, Haught? Is that it? I’ll have you know that I spent the morning sobbing all over my sister, thinking that I wanted donuts.”

“Actually,” Jeremy volunteered as if his whole life had been leading up to this moment. “Our donuts are exceptional, if I do say so myself. Did you know the process from dough to donut takes more than 24 hours?”

“Please shut up, Jeremy,” Nicole groaned.

Waverly wasn’t sure if she wanted to continue her accusations, or to laugh, or to push Nicole up against that table and give her a reason to smile for real.

Fortunately, Nicole gave her an out.

“So I did it then?” she asked Waverly with a smile that uncharacteristically bashful, pink cheeks and shining eyes to match. “Am I toothpaste?”

Waverly shook her head, and for all the long conversations she’d had with Nicole, she found that words failed her entirely.

Instead, she closed the distance between them and melded her body with Nicole’s before their lips met. Nicole was soft, just as Waverly knew she’d be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They kissed,  
and kissed,  
and _kissed_ ,  
until Waverly’s lips felt sore,  
and still,

they kissed again.

 

 

It wasn’t perfect; it was better than perfect.  
It was _toothpaste_.


End file.
